


How Many Men Does It Take?

by DixieDale



Category: Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-07 02:21:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17951828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: That was the question that kept coming up.  "Just how many men does it take?" Lieutenant Craig Garrison had asked in some exasperation.  After all, Garrison figured he and his guys could have handled it themselves - that meant five total.  HQ thought differently, decided to bring in Decker and his two men - another three.  That made eight.   Eight men, sometimes acting as a whole, sometimes individually, sometimes in twos or threes.But those numbers didn't tell the whole story, and when the final question was asked, "how many men does it take?", it turned out the count had been all wrong in the first place.  Who would have thought it was so hard to count from one to ten?





	How Many Men Does It Take?

Prelude:

Yeah, it was a bigger than usual job, an exceptionally tricky one with a lot of moving parts. Still, Garrison figured he and his guys could have handled it themselves; their earlier disconnects and quirks had been pretty much ironed out and the team was solid. But orders were orders, so it was a joint mission. 

Not that Garrison or his guys were all that happy about it; sometimes the added advantage of more bodies was outweighed by the disadvantages, especially unfamiliarity with your new teammates, their strengths, their weaknesses, how they thought and processed information. Hell, Wheeler had made that pretty damn clear, first time out.

Decker wasn't any too pleased at his orders either, or at least that Garrison was the one in charge, not him. Decker's men, 'Scotty' Harris and Lee Jenner, were surly, unfriendly, withdrawn, which was perhaps understandable when you considered they'd lost three of their company in the past four months - Marsdon, Culhane and Mulhaney, all good men, brothers-in-arms. 

The general atmosphere was enough to get them all on edge, and Decker apparently wasn't interested in smoothing things over, even seemed to find ways to increase the discord. Decker would take his verbal shots at Garrison's guys, sure, but seemed to dig at his own guys too, especially if it looked like the teams were starting to work more smoothly together. It was almost as if he WANTED them at odds with each other!

"Ruddy 'ell, ever think 'ow lucky we are to 'ave the Warden, stead of some prick like Decker??!" Goniff had freely expressed in the Common Room after a joint meeting that left everyone less than content with the prospect of working together in the field. His three teammates agreed, but really, none of them realized just how right he was, not fully, not til later.

Garrison was concerned, of course, knew they had to work together to make this happen, but could see the odds decreasing moment by moment. Decker's sly prodding, Jenner and Harris's sullen attitude, that didn't bode well. And, as he well knew, his guys didn't always play nice with others even under the best of circumstances. He delivered a few hints, then a few firm orders, and then hoped for the best. When push came to shove, however, it wasn't his guys who presented the problem, it was Decker himself.

Decker, on the other hand, was more than pleased at the lack of camaraderie. The last thing he wanted was his guys to get buddy-buddy with Garrison's team of roughnecks. Admittedly, there were quite a few unit leaders who would have felt the same, but Decker had an ulterior motive. After all, he intended to be rid of Harris and Jenner once and for all on this mission, and that was going to be tricky. He didn't want any interference from Garrison or his cons.

He considered this joint mission a godsend, the only downside being that Garrison was put in charge, not him. Well, he'd just find ways to work around that. He really didn't have much choice; Harris and Jenner were getting to be a problem.

A few months ago his team had started to get suspicious; he'd caught a couple of those questioning looks between Marsdon and Culhane early on. The two remaining might even be getting close to the truth, might be starting to suspect him of playing both sides, especially after Marsdon and Culhane hadn't made it back from the Oslo mission, and Mulhaney from the one to Calais. 

Marsdon and Culhane he'd had his business associates take care of; Mulhaney he'd handled himself, and it had been a close run thing. If Mulhaney had moved just a little quicker, it might have been Mulhaney stepping away with a whole skin, not Decker; it was just luck that Decker was a hair better with a knife than Mulhaney was. Explaining Mulhaney's death "neither of us saw the guard til it was too late," had taken some fast talking, and he just wasn't sure Harris had totally bought the story. Well, Harris and Mulhaney had been real tight.

Going out with Garrison's team, well, that could just be an ideal opportunity to get rid of Harris and Jenner while laying the blame elsewhere. Yes, that could work out quite nicely. Even the idiots at HQ might get suspicious of the last two men of his original team turning up dead while he came back alive if it had just been the three of them headed out. Yeah, but with them dead, him alive AND Garrison and his guys to either back up his story or to take the fall? That could work out just fine! He could start over with new men, men who with any luck would never catch on in time to put a spoke in the wheels of his very lucrative money machine. This war wouldn't last forever; he needed to rake it in while he could.

 

The Mission:

Garrison never heard just how it happened, but somehow Decker's two men, off on that recon with Decker, had ended up dead. Decker himself had barely made it back, by all accounts, but had cut off any demands for an explanation, seeming intent on completing the mission and getting home, and although it ate at Garrison, there really wasn't much of a choice. If he thought the men were still alive, any chance of that, he'd had pursued it, but Decker said there had been no question of that, that the burst of machine gun fire in the night had ripped them to shreds. That was a bitter pill, though for some odd reason, it seemed like HE was feeling it more than Decker was. He knew that couldn't be the case, surely; figured Decker was just keeping it all locked down til they got home.

Well, the mission had been accomplished, Actor and Garrison playing their role, Chief and Casino handling part, Goniff pairing with Decker in order to handle the sticky fingers part of the job. They'd met up, all points covered, headed out, but a sudden run-in with a German patrol put their jeep out of commission, all of them getting their lumps in the process. Now the team was on foot and running for their lives. 

Things started turning even more dicey when they spotted the soldiers in front of them, spread out in units of two, patrolling the area the team had to pass through. With their pursuers close behind, they had no choice; they had to split up to get through and around. They were all in German uniforms so there was a good chance they could make it past the soldiers ahead with any kind of luck and maybe a little fast talking. They'd meet up on the other side of the line, circle back to pick up any stragglers, if need be, but hopefully it wouldn't come to that. 

Chief headed out with Actor, Casino with Garrison, Goniff with Decker - each of those who didn't speak the language fluently with one who did. Casino muttered as they split up, "hope Lady Luck's in a good frame of mind. Looks like we're gonna need her!"

Well, it seemed as if Lady Luck hadn't come through a hundred percent. When they all met up on the other side, Decker was alone. Garrison's demand for an explation got a quick reply.

"He went down, Lieutenant, hard. I couldn't manage him alone, and he insisted I go ahead. He was going to try and draw them back that way so I'd have a clear shot at meeting up with you guys." 

The part he didn't mention, well, at least one part, was his pretty much ordering Goniff to do that, telling him he'd be back with help, and taking off before he could get any argument. No, he'd not mention that, along with one or two other things.

"How long ago was that?" Garrison demanded. 

Decker glanced at his watch, "about twenty or so; I had to take it slow around one of the sentries. They're bound to catch up any time; we gotta get a move on," as he headed north. As he spoke there was a flurry of shots from the direction he'd come from.

Garrison grabbed his arm, "you're headed in the wrong direction, aren't you, Decker? You came from the west; that's where Goniff would be, right?" 

"Shit, Warden. We gotta get a move on. If they aint got him yet, they're bound to any minute," Casino exclaimed, while Chief loosened his blade, ready for action, facing back along Decker's trail. Decker was shocked to see Garrison motioning them all back the way he'd come from, the men moving like there was no question.

Decker stopped dead in his tracks, resisting, looking at them all like they were crazy. 

"That's the last place we're headed, Garrison. We'll run right into them! The idea was for them to get slowed down enough dealing with him, give us the chance to get away clean!" 

There was silence for a brief second, "you intended to leave him all along; you never intended to go back," Actor murmured, his voice soft, his eyes hard as granite, disbelief fast disappearing to be replaced with contempt. Decker refrained from rolling his eyes at the obviousness of that statement, possibly because of Garrison grabbing his shoulder, shoving him ahead, headed back in the direction of those shots.

He looked at their faces. He couldn't believe they could be this dense, would be willing to do this! There was no give on Garrison's determined face, that Decker could see.

He tried again, addressing just the guys. "And you intend to go along with this? Risk your lives for one man? Why? He's irreplaceable or something?? What makes him so special Garrison would do that, that any of you would?"

Casino's voice was harsh, "you really don't get it, do you, Decker? Goniff's one of us. And it aint just it being the little Limey. The Warden'd be going back for any one of us, just like we all would, for any of us, for him. Hell, maybe even for you!" though the look in those dark eyes made the last a little doubtful.

"Let's move out! You know the drill! We see what we're up against before we go barrelling in. Try to keep Goniff out of the line of fire. Decker, you stay with me, and you keep your damned mouth shut! One wrong move and I'll shoot you myself!" 

From the look on Garrison's face, Decker knew he meant it. He might not UNDERSTAND it, but there was no doubt Garrison meant every word. That for Garrison, each of his men was special, each irreplacable in their own right, that was something Decker would NEVER understand. He'd certainly never felt that way.

Garrison would deal with Decker later; right now he had more important things to take care of, a little Limey pockpocket to retrieve if there was still time. Decker couldn't believe it when they headed back the way he'd come, but that hard shove to his ribs with the business end of Garrison's revolver convinced him to go along for now.

A ragged eerie scream pierced the night, like nothing any of them had ever heard! Well, except for Chief. He'd taught Goniff that Apache war cry, just as a giggle when the man had asked, saying he wanted to surprise Casino with it sometime. Hearing it now, he knew the little Englishman was making his last stand, letting the team know how things stood, perhaps letting that be his farewell to them.

"We aint got much time, Warden! He's going down!" 

The German patrol had been much too occupied with subduing the man who had eluded them, then held them off so successfully to worry about the others, not yet. Now they were too occupied with making this one pay for making them lose sight of the others; their masters were not going to be happy, and they were going to take their future misery out on this skinny blond foreigner here and now. 

It wasn't pretty, any of it, what they interrupted, what came after. The Germans had been far too occupied with Goniff to sense the coldly-intent men bearing down on them; hell, they hadn't even bothered to set anyone on watch, figuring if the others had abandoned this one, they'd hardly be coming back for him. 

Decker had joined in the killing, not having a heck of a lot of choice, though waiting for a chance to send a fatal 'stray bullet' into some vital part of the Englishman's body. The wounded man, wounded before, even more damaged now by the abuse and energetic beating he'd been given by the soldiers, WOULD slow them down, and he intended to get back to the exit point in time for the rendezvous with the sub. 

And, of course, he really wanted his version of this little incident to be the only one that made it back; sooner or later, if he hadn't already, the Englishman would figure out that his earlier injury had been 'friendly fire', so to speak.

In fact, if his aim had been a little more on target first time around, if the man hadn't turned so suddenly, the damned pickpocket would have never gotten this far! Finishing the job back there would have brought the soldiers down on both of them, so he hadn't, but he had really been counting on the Germans to finish the job for him.

Well, it wasn't as if Decker had had any choice, not after the fool had seen Decker earlier in the job having that friendly little one-on-one with the German officer, getting that nice fat envelope for his trouble. Goniff had seemingly bought his cover story, but you never could tell. Like they said, 'loose lips sink ships', and his enterprising nature in this war was keeping his own ship nicely afloat. He intended to keep it that way. 

His opportunity never came. Or rather, it had, he had the shot all lined up nicely, but before he could pull the trigger, the gun had been snatched away by a snarling Chief, and somehow, his innocent protest hadn't seemed to be accepted, even acknowledged by anyone on the team. While Actor and Casino helped Goniff, Decker found he'd gained Chief as a new shadow, while Garrison led the way.

To arrive at the rendezvous point to find out Jenner and Harris had somehow made it out of that pit after all, that had been a nightmare situation for him. For some reason, Garrison seemed to believe those two slackers over him, about any number of things, and he'd found himself the focus of very unfriendly eyes. 

Once Goniff had been able to add a few tidbits of his own, once that envelope had been discovered, the general consensus seemed to be that Garrison should take himself a little walk, "just ten minutes or so, Warden," and then whoever was left alive would board the sub when it arrived. 

Decker had been genuinely shocked by the very sincere temptation in the young officer's face, had protested. 

"What? You'd take their word over mine, turn me over to them? Just like that, Garrison? No judge, no jury?? I might expect that from them, but from a fellow officer??! You can't go along with that!" Anger, contempt and desperation warred in his voice as he made what amounted to more of a demand than an appeal.

Decker really didn't know when to keep his mouth shut, from the evil looks he was getting, but his words seemed to have an impact, at least on the officer. Then the steely-eyed blond had shaken his head, though with surprising reluctance. 

"He's right about one thing. There's only seven of us. Last time I checked, it takes nine for a jury."

Harris hadn't said much the whole time, letting Jenner do most of the talking. He didn't say a heck of a lot a minute later, as a shocked Garrison watched the burly Scot clean off his knife after plunging it between Decker's ribs into his heart. Just a simple math lesson, that was all, given in a cold, hard voice.

"You miscounted, Lieutenant. Your guys, that's four; me and Jenner, that makes six. Plus Marsdon and Culhane makes eight. You'd make up the nine, but we'll leave you out, you being an officer and all, but we add in Mulhaney, that makes up the nine again. You might not see those last three, being how's they're dead and all, cause of this bastard, but me and Jenner sure as hell do."

There was a deep silence, then his men spoke up, one by one, not with heat, but with solemn intent.

"Yes, Craig, it would appear you miscounted. Nine, without question," came from Actor, kneeling next to Goniff, tending his wounds.

Chief and Casino stood alongside, their faces hard, stoic. "Sounds about right, Warden. Nine," Casino said.

Chief nodding his agreement, "nine's the way I figure it, Warden."

Goniff swallowed hard, but his eyes were equally damning as he looked across at the body on the ground. "Nine, right enough," his voice not more than a whisper. He'd seen Decker's eyes when the man pulled the trigger the first time, knew it hadn't been an accident.

Garrison stood over Decker for a minute, looking down at his body. Then he turned his back and walked over, knelt down on one knee, placing a hand on Goniff's shoulder, gripping it firmly. His eyes looked squarely into Goniff's eyes, then from one to the other of the men around him, meeting their gaze straight on, his men, Harris and Jenner too.

"Now it's you guys who're miscounting. Anyone looking closely enough would see ten men here. That gives nine for the jury, one for a judge. I don't see how he could have asked for anything more fair than that."

It wasn't even discussed, they all knew this was finished. Ken Decker had been a casualty of war. Unfortunate, but these things did happen.

In fact, Garrison went over the circumstances out loud while they waited for the sub, after they'd moved Decker's body back among the rocks, burying him under those same rocks. It would be helpful if the debriefings all had the same trend about that pitched battle and Decker getting in the way of a German soldier with a knife. Surprisingly similar to the story Decker had told about Mulhaney's end.

 

Aftermath:

It was a subdued group that climbed into that small boat, and that didn't change much aboard the sub. Goniff ended up in the tiny med unit. Garrison got his own smaller injuries tended there as well, even though he'd shrugged off the medic til after Goniff was tended to, of course, and had stuck around, perched on the tiny chair next to the bunk. The others had waited in the narrow hall, now poked their heads in to check before they headed off to the enlisted mess to get their own injuries tended to, but the medic shoo'd them back and away, except for Actor, who he knew was their field medic.

"Let him rest. And see if you can't get your Lieutenant out of here too; he's using up all the extra air. And besides, he's likely to go to sleep sitting there, and if he falls off that chair and gets wedged in that corner, we'll never get him out!" That was all said with a weary smile, but Actor did urge Garrison away, after motioning the rest of the team to go on ahead. Jenner and Harris had hung back, more than a little about this crew, this officer puzzling them.

At the small opening, Garrison hesitated, turned to look back at the silent figure in the narrow bunk, the walls closing in around so tightly. "The medic put him under. I hate for him to come to here in the dark, alone, Actor. It doesn't bother him quite as much as it does Chief, I know, but still . . ." he'd said to the tall Italian who was sticking close to their faltering commanding officer in case his knees gave way.

"True, but he's right; you're done in. At least get some coffee and food. You know the others will be taking turns sitting with him once they get patched up and grab a cup of coffee. They, we aren't going to leave him on his own, any more than he'd leave any of us that way. I sincerely doubt he'll come to before Chief or Casino gets here, Craig."

Jenner was looking at the byplay with an odd look on his face, saw Harris was watching too. Somehow, it just seemed natural to speak up. "I'm not really bunged up, Lieutenant; don't need the medic to give me a going over. I'll take a turn sitting with him til one a your guys gets here; at least he'll recognize me, it won't be like alone or with a total stranger. Harris, he'll bring me back a cup of coffee," getting a solid nod in return from his only remaining teammate.

Garrison looked at him, hesitated, then nodded. "Thanks, Jenner. One of the other guys will be back in a little while to relieve you."

Harris took note of the anxious looks they got the other two men when they entered the enlisted mess. A corpsman was applying ointments, wrapping a bandage or two, but was being brushed aside now that Garrison and Actor and Harris walked in.

"How's the little Limey?" Casino said with a worried frown, and Chief motioned away the corpsman wrapping a slash on his arm and started to stand.

"I'll head back . . ."

"You'll sit, finished getting patched up, get some coffee and some food. Jenner's sticking with Goniff for now. He'll be okay til one of us gets back there. Harris, let's get you that coffee and some food for Jenner, then you come back and get something to eat, get some rest."

Harris took the coffee and plate back, receiving a nod of thanks in return, and headed back to sit with Garrison and his men. The interaction was interesting, certainly, the men so different you'd never think they'd be able to get along, much less work so well together. Well, it had pretty much been that with their crew, too. Him and Jenner, and the three now missing from their group. The big difference wasn't in the men, it was in their leader. When Garrison made his weary way to talk to the Captain, to report in, he spoke up.

It was with a low voice he asked Casino, "it always like this? I mean . . . " getting a wry tired smile in return. 

"Not always. Usually it's the Lieutenant off being patched up, though we've all taken our lumps. Course, if Goniff was out here, he'd be turning green on us; he don't handle the water too good. Don't handle being in the air too good either, but I think water's probably worse."

"Yeah, but that's not what I meant. Garrison. It's like it matters to him; like Goniff matters, like you ALL matter to him." The bewilderment was obvious. 

Now there was a hard frown on Casino's face, a tightening of his jaw, but a restraining hand from Chief on his forearm kept back any equally hard words. He understood better where that awkward statement came from.

The usually quiet Chief answered. "Thing is, Harris, Garrison aint Decker. We DO matter to him, all of us. He don't leave anyone behind, less they've for sure stopped breathin. Woulda headed back for you two, cept Decker swore you were both for sure dead, and we didn't know then he couldn't be trusted. The Warden, he's gotten bunged up making sure we all get out; we do the same for him. He's in charge, Harris, no doubt about that. But he's also part of the team; we're ALL part of the team, each of us, and we look out for each other."

Harris got a grim, melancholy look to him then, and nodded. "That's how it was with us - not Decker, but the rest of us. We had someone like Garrison instead of him, they might still be here. Gonna miss them, Jenner and me."

There wasn't much anyone could say to that, but he took some comfort in the firm hands that touched his shoulders briefly. And there was comfort as well in the words Actor, silent til now, added.

"Lieutenant Garrison is rather unique, granted, but he's not the only good team leader out there. I can think of several. I believe the Lieutenant will do his best to see you settled down with someone more deserving of you next time."

Epilogue:  


"Unfortunate, Major, of course. That leaves just Harris and Jenner left from Decker's team. They're good men; probably fit in fine with Ainsley's group, maybe Davis or Carlisle's. I'd like to see them stay together in the same group, though; they've gone through a lot together. They need a recommendation, they've got mine. They need a temporary billet, we can squeeze another couple of cots in at the Mansion."

Major Kevin Richards had the feeling there was more being left unsaid, but he'd gained enough wisdom to know when to let something rest. This was obviously one of those times.


End file.
